


Endgame

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Series Finale [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I guess it’s over," Scott says. It feels like fresh water in the desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> This is expanded from a post on tumblr where I talked about what the end of Teen Wolf might look like if Scott/Stiles was "endgame" canonically. I doubt this will go anywhere else, but I wanted to have it here on the archive to keep it safe. 
> 
> Side pairings include: Kira/Malia, Derek/Braeden, Danny/Jackson, Cora/Isaac, Allison/Lydia, Liam&Mason, Boyd/Erica
> 
> Spoiler: The referenced minor character death is Peter Hale. It's not dealt with in any heavy fashion.

The chimera falls at the roots of the Nemeton, its final struggle ended, leaving the ground around them scorched and dormant. Scott checks the clearing to reassure his eyes of what he already knows in his heart is true: the pack is safe.

Kira and Malia quietly clean one another’s wounds, smudging dirt off with shaky hands. Malia pushes her face into Kira's neck, scenting her and squeezing her sides, holding the fox still for her quiet assault. Kira doesn't seem to mind. She smiles and drags her hands through the tangles of Malia's hair, petting her slowly, like she could settle the coyote through a girl skin. 

Derek and Braeden watch with a shared, exhausted happiness as Isaac pulls Cora up off the ground, helps her dust off, squeezes her tight. Cora meets Derek's eyes over her shoulder, nodding at him, and Scott doesn't need to hear the words to know what's being spoken: _It's better this way. We did the right thing. Peter was gone long before tonight._  He aches to go to them, comfort them, drag his hand over Isaac's nape, put his teeth to Derek's shoulder, settle them back into their bones. It's comforting though, to watch Braeden tug Isaac in, rub his back while she threads her fingers through Derek's, connects them all in a small way that feels bigger here in the aftermath.

The trill of Jackson's cellphone is almost deafening, and Danny's voice on the end of the line is clear as day.

"Are you hurt? Tell me right now. Is anyone hurt? Jacks, are you -"

"I'm fine," Jackson assure him, holding the phone away from his ear. "It's fine Danny. It’s... it's done now. It's finished."

"When will you be back?" The relief in Danny's voice is palpable, exquisite, and Scott grins at it, so tired and sore but still here, still _alive_. Still able to watch as Jackson Whittemore becomes someone's relief. 

"Tonight. Soon. Soon, I'll see you so soon."

The whole time he talks, Jackson watches Lydia across the clearing, where she’s clinging to Allison. Lydia pressing desperate kisses all over her face, holding tight to Allison's snow-pale arms, gripping so tightly the skin pinkens under her fingers.

“I knew I could do it. I knew I could get you back. I knew I could bring you back," she says, tears streaming down her face. He aches to go to them, to hold Allison in his arms again and smell her hair, feel her heartbeat, but he can't. Not when Lydia was the one to bring her back, not after all this time. He stands and watches, heart achingly full, as they cling and hold, wrap themselves around each other in a too-tight embrace.

Allison buries her face in Lydia’s hair, whispers, “I wasn’t ever really gone.” 

Liam and Mason high five a bit awkwardly before Mason drags Liam into a hug, lifting him off the ground. He can smell the salt, knows all the wolves can, but none of them say anything about Liam’s wet eyes, or the small, desperate looks he keeps shooting toward Scott. Mason's shoulders stiffen when he realizes Liam's crying, like he's ready to ward off a blow from all sides, to defend his friend from unseen attackers, but no attack comes. Scott's eyes fill with tears too.

Isaac lifts his head, sniffs the air, smiles. “I can feel them. In the preserve.” 

"Who?" Malia perks up, Kira sagging against her. They've twined about one another so intensely that it's difficult to tell where Kira's limbs end and Malia's begin, but everyone's starting to get used to that. 

"Erica and Boyd. They…" Isaac swallows, scraping a hand over his eyes. "They want to be here with us, I think. I can almost smell them." Scott's heart clenches in his chest, aches for the betas that were never his but he always felt responsible for, somehow. Wanted to take care of, to protect. 

"They’re here," Lydia nods, looking at Derek. "They’re all here." 

"All of them?" Derek's voice is so small in the preserve, but when Lydia nods, his shoulders straighten, like maybe he's showing them who he is now. Like he wants them to know who Derek Hale became. Braeden nudges him, and Derek bows his head, smiling. He whispers, “Hi, Laura.” Cora takes his hand and doesn't let go.

Scott breathes deep of the contentment in the woods, the new found peace running in rivers through the preserve. He has one strong arm around Stiles’ waist, propping him up.  Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't pull away. His knees shake and his breath is shallow, but they stand together like they always have. 

"I guess it’s over," Scott says. It feels like fresh water in the desert. 

 

The pack disperses. Despite everything, they’re still all people under their claws and fangs. They have homework, and part time jobs, and classes to attend, and people to see, and places to be outside of Beacon Hills. They can go now. They aren’t tied here any longer.

Scott and Stiles get into the Jeep, Scott swinging into the passenger’s seat like he’s done thousands of times before. Stiles grins at him slinging his head to the side in that flail-y, manic way he has even when he’s exhausted. Never one to conserve, Stiles. 

"Where should we go?" 

"Um," Scott flounders. It’s a tough choice. "Anywhere. We could… we could go anywhere."

They soak it in, all that possibility. It runs through them like a current, the freedom of it. There's power in that. Scott shakes his head, laughing a little at the sky, and Stiles laughs with him. They sit in the Jeep, letting the motor idle for long minutes while they lean back and laugh at the canopy of trees overhead. It feels good.  

They end up on the outcropping overlooking town. Stiles cuts the engine, leaving them in the quiet stillness of early twilight. It isn’t eerie, like it could be before. It doesn’t scare him like it used to. 

Scott twines his fingers in with Stiles’, resting their palms on the stick shift between them. It is a quiet thing, falling in love with your best friend. It is a thing that happens when you aren’t looking for it, but when you discover it, it is more precious than anything else you might have sought. He didn't expect it, but he wants it, knows Stiles wants it. They fit together like puzzle pieces, filling in each others' gaps, making themselves whole. They look out into the ravine, watching night fall slowly, hesitantly. There are blood stains on his jeans, tears in his shirt, and the cut above Stiles' eye probably needs stitches, but they can't go home just yet. Not without doing this.

He doesn't even realize he's crying until Stiles offers a sleeve. 

"We made it." He laughs while he cries sometimes, some instinct in him to cover his own pain, but this time it's from relief.

"Yeah we did," Stiles smiles, and there are tears in his eyes too, but they don't run over like Scott's do. Stiles chews his lips and grins and tightens their fingers together. "We're alive. The big bad is dead. Your SAT scores weren't as bad as you figured they'd be." 

Scott smacks him, gently, wincing at the stretch in his sore muscles. Stiles laughs. 

"I guess…" he falters, "I guess it really is over. I just. Can’t believe it." 

"S’not over, Scotty," Stiles smiles, the soft one he never uses, and bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own. He turns to rub his temple against Scott’s shoulder, rests his chin there for a minute, stretched awkwardly over the center console. Scott turns in, too, to meet him. Their eyes meet for one beautiful moment, and everything is right. 

Their mouths pressing together in the stale air of the Jeep with the night falling around them is the most natural thing in the world. 

"S’not over," Stiles repeats, nipping softly at Scott’s lips. "S’just beginning." 

In the distance, a wolf howls.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr.](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com)  
> 


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